


Good Morning (Easy)

by LosingInterest



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosingInterest/pseuds/LosingInterest
Summary: “Hmm,” he runs his fingers through your hair, his heels are digging into your back like a threat. “Stay?”You have so many places to go and so little where you really want to be. Right now, it’s one word answer, his name.“Jiyong?” he nudges your side impatiently. That’s his problem, impatience. He’s eager in everything he loves, he’s eager in loving everything.





	Good Morning (Easy)

You wake up in another morning with him pressed against your chest, robbing all the spaces worries should be taking places. His breaths are stealing yours even before the Sun settles properly in the sky. His skin is warm despite the low temperature the day presents. You can’t resist yourself to dance your fingers on that display, and no, you’re not even trying to. He leans to your touch eagerly so you smile. Not even in unconsciousness will he ever deny his praise of you.

“Good morning,” you say, slightly a mumble. He may not hear it, still losing in his dreams but it wasn’t meant for him to hear anyway. It’s simply your declaration to yourself, a prayer that you wish to come true. You reward him with a kiss on his lips when he stirs, hoping to steal more moments before those eyes spring to greet the day. The knowledge that they will be fixed on you, staring at you like you were the one painting stars in the dark, and boring into you until your skull throbs with needs does make your heart jumps to your throat.

Easy.

You chuckle. Yeah, that’s the thing, easy. With him, bare before you, vulnerably laying his being in your arms, every morning is good. Great, actually, but he won’t catch you saying that. Boasting his ego will cause him to burst into more of a cheerful self and you definitely don’t need any kind of booster to have him again and again and again until he’s laying pliant under you –or on top of you, whatever, wearing nothing but half-lidded gaze and swollen lips and those three words on the tip of his tongue. You don’t need him to make you explode with this feeling inside your chest, no, he’s already so close to succeeding.

He’s easy, not you.

His skin gives away when you slides your hand on it, resting carefully on his stomach. He’s toned, muscles and fat, all the soft and heavy spots, unlike you. You’re bones and sap, anger and control. You’re opposite but not really that far. How else are you going to explain the reason you keep finding ways to find each other? After all, distance does separate.

Hearts? Would never.

You tuck his head under your chin, his hair tickles your neck. To hell with that, his hipbone is under your palm and his ass rests perfectly. With a surge of purpose in your blood singing, you rose him to full awareness.

“M’ning,” he says –gasps, most likely, arching to your presence. His mouth parts with a breath and an _oh_ falls from his lips.

“Good,” you remind him. It’s always good. Always. You have him in your hand, slow and gentle. It’s good.

“Yeah,” he shakes and shudders. You feel the tremors coming sweetly, all wrapped in your fingers. “ _God, fuck_.”

“Okay,” you comply, sliding in, sparing your breath for its impact. Fireworks, you guess right. “Okay?”

“Good,” he blinks, turning his head to search for your lips. He’s trying to steal the oxygen and you’ll let him rip it out of your chest. You’re going to give him everything.

You don’t close your eyes and he doesn’t shut his either. It’s an old dance, the one you know every step of the way. Your spine still get the chilling, despite all the years. He still clings onto you like you’re his lifeline. And he will tell you that too, after all, after _this_.

He moves and moves. Everything is too hot, blissful, you have to pull out. His face crumbles before you press him against the sheet, sliding home again and skipping a heartbeat, probably two. The cries coming out of him, sudden and loud out of nowhere is worth all your effort to wake up before him.

“Close,” he announces but you’re not sure who that was about. Possibly both, it’s not like you two are different entity at this particular moment anyway.

“Come,” you whisper against his mouth as he keens. “Come.”

He does, tumbling wet with a shout, thunderstorm, everything that pulls you into its eye. You wait but he doesn’t, he never does.

“Sweetheart,” he coos in your ear, his scent is all around you, intoxicating you. “Jiyong.”

Tidal waves catch you unguarded, your hands mark bruises on his hips, stuttering when you’re spent. He looks at you, still, like you’re not sharp edges. He smiles.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you bite until his skin is the color of crimson. “Hey, you.”

“Hmm,” he runs his fingers through your hair, his heels are digging into your back like a threat. “Stay?”

You have so many places to go and so little where you really want to be. Right now, it’s one word answer, his name.

“Jiyong?” he nudges your side impatiently. That’s his problem, impatience. He’s eager in everything he loves, he’s eager in loving everything.

“Yeah,” you rests your eyes close, taking more of his presence, warm in your arms, fire around you. “Okay.”

You feel his smile on your shoulder and it’s easy to fall into one more day.

With him.

Easy.


End file.
